Delusional
by thepugwithin
Summary: TEMPORARY HIATUS/ TOP GEAR. When Richard Hammond, Jeremy Clarkson and James May are out hiking, James notices an unsettling presence. What will happen when the past becomes present, and the future crumbles with uncertainty? And who is left to trust when nothing is what it seems? M/M. Rating will change from T to M.
1. Chapter 1

"Come on, chaps! We have a long way to go" said Hammond, the most enthusiastic of them all, wearing his traveller's backpack and hiker's shorts with pockets full of gizmos and gadgets for whatever possible situation they might encounter. His brown eyes were bright with excitement. It was all very typically Hammond to drag the three of them – James, Jeremy and himself - out on a camper's weekend in some forest with an obscure name located in God-knows-where. In fact, it still thoroughly surprised Hammond that the both of them ever agreed to go with him. Based on earlier experiences it never ended well and the weather was never quite right. It was too hot or too cold, too wet or too dry. Hammond still recalled that one time they had walked twenty miles in the pouring rain just to buy some beer because Jeremy blatantly refused to sleep in a tent with the possibility of bear attacks without being drunk half out of his mind. He also recalled it was the very same man that "was able to fight off a bear with his fists" when Hammond had shown off his two newly-bought Swiss Army Knives. "Knives? In the wilderness? What would you _possibly_ need knives for?" That bravery had ended faster than it had arrived.

This hike was, unsurprisingly, no different to the previous ones. Hammond had chosen some unpronounceable Welsh forest in the middle of nowhere and dragged James and Jeremy along with him. Hammond had told them it was a seemingly beautiful and accessible hiking trail. Upon arrival they had, to James' and Jeremy's despair, discovered the roads were ever so slightly steeper than they originally had thought, and that the vegetation was growing high and wild. Hammond had refused to let it affect his decision of location - this _was_ the ultimate hiking trail. Evidently it was, at least to him, because he covered distance much faster than his two friends and he whistled along happily as he proceeded to increase the meters between them. The sun stood high in the sky, warming their already summer-brown necks.

"Wait up, Hammond!" Clarkson shouted from a few yards down the slope. Richard turned around only to find James way back resting on a big rock, and Jeremy even further down the hill desperately trying to catch up with the pair of them. Jeremy was in jeans, a black t-shirt and hideous youngster's sunglasses. He had the carrier's belt of his enormous backpack tight around his waist, revealing his not-so-flattering old-man's belly. James was more appropriately dressed for a hike. His backpack wasn't as enormous, and he most definitely wasn't wearing jeans. He was in trousers much like Hammond's – suitable for walking far without becoming incredibly uncomfortable and sweaty. James had always tried to be a practical man.

As James glanced down at Jeremy he burst out laughing. Jeremy had somehow managed to fall backwards, and he was rolling down-hill. He didn't roll far before he managed to grab on to the roots of a bush near the edge of the path. The weight of his backpack made it very difficult for him to get back on his feet, and his friends were keener on mercilessly laughing at him rather than helping him up. After desperately flailing about for a minute or so, he managed to get back on his feet. Grumpily he stomped onwards, towards his much-too-happy colleagues.

"Clarkson, you daft cock" James laughed as Jeremy finally caught up with him fifteen-or-so minutes later. Tiredly Jeremy muttered something insulting about James' being and sat down on the rock beside him. Hammond realized they were not going to move for another thirty minutes, so he began walking down the hill again to join his friends. He managed to fit on the last spot of available rock, and there they sat in silence for a couple of minutes. Hammond embraced the moment of tranquillity – they were rare when it came to the three of them – and peacefully studied his surroundings. The path they had walked up was narrow and lined by vegetation. The right side was lined by a thick blackberry bush that stretched from the bottom of the hill to the very top. To avoid the thorns they had been walking to the left, which fortunately was filled with beeches, grass and wild strawberry plants. When Hammond leaned down and picked a wild strawberry, he caught the glimpse of James in the corner of his eye. James was studying something his direction, but he wasn't looking directly at him. Hammond scanned the area in an attempt to find whatever it was James found so interesting albeit not successfully - there was nothing more than trees as far as he could tell. Hammond decided not to ponder, and proceeded with eating the yummy, red little creation he held between his fingers. Five minutes later Jeremy declared he was ready to continue. His mood had lifted appreciably thanks to James who also managed to fall backwards only, less fortunately, into a puddle of mud. The pair of them clearly weren't familiar with backpacks or gravity.

After two hours of hiking uphill, much to Jeremy's distaste, the road finally flattened out. They had actually managed to make it to the top of the mountain. The road had, as anticipated since arrival, been incredibly steep and inaccessible. At times it had been so overgrown Hammond's knives had been brought out, and vegetation chopped out of the way. Even Hammond was getting worn out, and dusk had started to fall. It was a solid decision to set up camp and prepare for the night. With but a slight struggle Hammond managed to get the tent out of his backpack. This he then placed at the feet of Jeremy and James who were sitting on the ground, and gave them a "build-this-you-cocks" look. He himself headed over to a small rock by the end of the clearing, and stood upon it.

The view although darkness was upon them was truly astonishing. Tree-covered mountain peaks stretched as far as his eyes could see, and birds were chirping and flying low in the cool, damp midsummer air. The trees were glowing with a magnificent orange shade, as if the sun had come down from the sky and settled amongst the tree roots. There was gold, pink, orange and yellow in a heavenly combination that could warm the coldest soul to the core. Hammond was stunned by the sheer beauty of the landscape. He spun around to overlook the spot they had chosen to make camp on. It was a clearing rounded by tall beeches. The last rays of sun still touched the soft grass and embraced the flowers before they fell into nightly slumber, shutting their beautiful colours out from the rest of the world. Hammond felt at peace with the world, and looking at Jeremy and James he was sure they were as well. They weren't fighting, and they were somewhat able to put the tent up without breaking or setting fire to anything. It was a proud moment for Hammond, he did admit. Not too proud, however, for he decided to walk back to them shortly after this realisation. When it came to the Top Gear team it was better not to challenge fate.

"How are you managing?" he asked Jeremy and James as he stepped up behind them. "I'm quite amazed you are both still alive."

"Oh, shut it Hammond" James muttered as he attempted to get the ceiling of the tent in a tent-like shape. It actually looked quite alright. Hammond giggled at him, but was interrupted by Jeremy's deep voice from over the pile of their backpacks.

"Since we are to spend a couple of days out here with James May" he begun "I thought I would spare my own life by bringing my own tent. This evidently means you will have to share that one, whist I sleep like a king in mine."

"You are an arse" James established, and continued setting the tent up. "I wish you the best of luck putting that up all on your own."

As anticipated Jeremy had overrated his own ability, but he stubbornly continued attempting to put up the massive pile of sticks and cloth that was his tent. At first James and Hammond had found it very entertaining to sit on a log next to their own tent watching as Jeremy struggled, but eventually they gave in to kindness and helped him get the last sticks up and the cloth placed properly. Hammond was much better at everything that had to do with wilderness and camping, and as a result Jeremy's tent looked at least twice as good as his and James'. Jeremy was too tired and hungry to point that out, and it was a united decision to set up a campfire to cook some food and get some warmth before they had to sleep. Tomorrow would be a long day – all three of them knew that.

Later that evening James found himself twisting and turning in his sleeping bag, uncomfortable and unable to sleep. He couldn't shake the feeling something was very wrong.


	2. Chapter 2

James sat up slowly, rubbing the sleep out of his grainy eyes. Judging by the faint light from outside the tent he knew dawn was breaking, and it was far too early for him to be awake. With a sigh he rolled from his side onto his back and closed his eyes to get another few hours, but he couldn't seem to relax enough. His usually neatly organized mind was racing, refusing to settle on anything in particular. Memories from the past were fading together into a blur of frames. It unsettled him beyond imagination, and it wasn't the first time had lost sleep over it. Fair enough, he could tolerate Hammond or Clarkson making a mess out of his house on drunken night because _that _he could clean up afterwards. His mind was a different matter entirely.

After numerous failed attempts he gave up and begun silently making his way out of the tent, careful not to wake Hammond. Though, when he unzipped the opening to the tent to get out, he accidentally stood on Hammond's foot. However, the younger man merely grunted and rolled over and didn't seem at all bothered that someone had stood on him. Although Richard was usually a heavy sleeper James wasn't willing to take the risk. Only when he heard the regular snoring from his mate return did he dare moving again – a tired Hammond was a grumpy one. Without further due he crawled out of the tent and stood up.

The deep-blue sky was shifting to red, but it was still too dark to see anything except contours and clouds – James knew that with his sense of direction, taking a stroll in this dark condition would be fatal. Instead he made himself comfortable on the log they had put beside the fireplace the evening before. In the fireplace the sticks and larger pieces of wood had been burnt to crisp – only a dark pile of ashes remained, and a faint smell of smoke lingered still.

For thirty minutes he sat still, taking in his surroundings and listening to the gentle whispers of the trees. It was as if they were observing him, telling secrets, reaching out to each other through the branches' gentle swaying in the wind. Eventually drips of water came spattering down upon the English oak that sheltered his head. The raindrops tapped the leaves gently before reaching the ground, soaking the already moist soil. James was getting cold now. Cold, wet and hungry, and with water running down his neck, yet he didn't move. He hadn't noticed until now, but he suddenly became aware of what felt off; in the shadowed treeline just behind Jeremy's tent stood a man.

The man wore dark-blue, worn-down jeans and muddy, black Converse sneakers. His presumably light grey hoodie had achieved a dark nuance of grey due to the heavy rain, and his face was shadowed from having his hood up. Despite the distance between them James could make out that the man seemed to be in his thirties, and that he was looking straight toward him as if he knew who he was. With increasing paranoia, James looked over his shoulder only to confirm his suspicion – there was no one there. Whoever that man was, he recognized James – recognized him more than just as a presenter of Top Gear. Sure, they had had crazy fans stalking them in town, shouting names behind them as they drove off in their luxury sports cars, but he couldn't recall someone ever following them on their hiking extravaganzas before. And sure, he recalled a young woman sending obscure love letters to Richard, leaving them on his car at odd hours of the day and night, and he recalled an angry environmentalist threatening to kill Jeremy if he ever saw him, but that was about it. When James' mind returned to the present he turned back to face the stranger again, but he was gone.

It was well past noon when Hammond's dishevelled, brown hair poked out from the entrance of the tent. When he realized for how long he had been out, he grunted softly and stretched his aching legs and back. Looking back into the tent, he noticed his mate was missing.

"James?" Hammond called and rubbed sand out of his tired eyes. When James didn't answer, Hammond slowly got out of the tent and stood up, scouting around the seemingly abandoned campsite. He could hear snoring from Jeremy's tent, but that was the only factor that disturbed the peace, and of James there was no sign. It was not until Hammond practically fell over James that he realized his mate had been lying on his back in the grass behind the fireplace log the entire time, sleeping by the looks of it. Hammond knelt down in the grass, gently nudging at James' shoulder with is palm to wake him up.

"Mate, wake up" he said softly as James grunted and rolled onto his side. "James. C'mon. What are you doing out here?" James' eyes slowly opened and he gave Hammond a puzzled look as if he wasn't quite sure himself. Then it occurred to him.

"Hullo, Hammond. Didn't want to wake you" he said. "Went out to get some air but I must have fallen asleep." Sitting up, James realized his clothes were still damp from the rain, and he shuddered involuntarily at the realization of how cold he was. The clouds hung low and grey, threatening to soak him once more. Richard must have noticed his discomfort, because he offered him his hand and pulled him up urging him to get changed. Apparently his jacket, striped old jumper and jeans didn't qualify as outdoor clothing.

Once Jeremy had returned from the dead, the trio set out to make breakfast – partly (mostly) because they were hungry and Jeremy had a hangover, and partly because Richard wanted them to move to lower grounds. James was next to Richard on the log, and Jeremy was sprawled out on the grass that had finally dried up after the last shower. Dark clouds stood impressive and tall in the sky, foreboding thunder and more rain, and none of them were especially inclined to be fried to death by lightning. Well, except for Jeremy.

"I wouldn't mind" he said with a mouthful of bread and a lager in hand. "If I pissed some whacko environmentalist off by causing a fire with my burnt body it would all be worth it."

James and Richard simultaneously rolled their eyes at him, but it was in a friendly manner.

"No wonder people hate you" Richard commented. "You are an insufferable git and perhaps you _should _be burned." To this Jeremy only grunted and took a sip of his beer.

It took them nearly all afternoon to make their way down the steep slope. The vegetation on the south side was even more impenetrable than it had been on their way up, and mosquitoes were at them in hundreds. Jeremy complained loudly each time he was stung, and at one time it looked like he was going to punch Richard in the face for bringing him on such a stupid trip in the first place. James was quieter than usual, not even bothering to listen to Richard's and Jeremy's usual bickering. His mind had settled, but the frames had all been replaced with the memory of the hooded figure staring at him. James wasn't sure this state of mind was any better than the last.

"You alright?" he heard Richard ask him. He hadn't even realized he'd been quiet for so long. The bickering had died out and both Richard and Jeremy were watching him, looking slightly concerned. James nodded and smiled as convincingly as he could, and so the pair of them continued bickering.

It was already dark when they decided to make camp, and they could hear thunder distant in the background. All three of them were too tired to bicker any longer, so the tents were put up with full cooperation, and a fireplace was built for the sake of light and warmth. The forest had changed. The birches and beeches had been replaced by tall firs and spruces, and the cool evening air smelled of needles instead of leaves. The smoke from the fire repelled most of the mosquitos, so the three of them were gathered around it with a beer each, for once allowing each other a minute of silence. It was not an uncomfortable silence. They had known each other long enough to become good friends, and out here in the wild they didn't think the TV-act was necessary.

James was resting back against the trunk of a fir with Hammond right next to him on the grass. Then needles were poking through his jeans but he didn't mind if he didn't move, and he didn't quite have the energy to. He leaned the back of his head against the bark but just as he was going to close his eyes, the forest flashed white before him. Then again, and again, and he swore he could see a dark silhouette crouching not far behind Jeremy. But, as another flash of lightning went off, there was no one there. Breathing a sigh of relief, he closed his eyes.

Later that evening James was twisting and turning in his sleeping bag, yet again unable to relax. Richard, who had his back facing him, turned around and laid on his side, holding his head up with his hands.

"Can't sleep?" he asked James softly, and James shook his head.

"Rich-" James begun, but flushed at the realization of how stupid he was going to sound. As soon as he'd opened his mouth he knew it was too late. Richard was nosey and stubborn, and he wouldn't give up so easily.

"Yes?" Richard said the reprimand clear. James sighed.

"I think I saw someone" he begun, quite unsure how to put it. Richard regarded him with a puzzled look. "Earlier today" he continued. "There was a man standing by Jeremy's tent."

"When I found you, you were fast asleep. Must have dream it, mate." Richard sounded confident, and it provided James with some comfort. Besides, he wasn't even sure why he was so nervous or why he had that feeling something wasn't quite right.

"You're probably right."

When Richard fell asleep, he rolled over, his face against James' side. Richard's warmth and steady breathing soothed him, and for the first time in weeks he was out in less than ten.


	3. Chapter 3

James could still recall that night in July last year as if it had been yesterday. Britain had been hit by a heat wave that had lingered for nearly three weeks, but that evening had been cool, almost chilly. Standing hunched over a workbench in his garage, James had gone through his spanners at least three times, sorting them after size and function. With an old, dirty-looking rag he cleaned the spanners that appeared dirty. After realizing he had cleaned the same spanner at least three times already, he started to wonder if he was imagining dirt that wasn't_ actually_ there.

Top Gear was on hold, and he found most of his days mind-numbingly lonely and tedious. To distract himself from the vast nothingness he felt, he organized things. The kitchen table was covered with stack after stack of car magazines, each pile sorted after year of publication and date of release. The coffee-table in his living room was covered in Lego, each individual piece sorted by colour, and each stack of same-colour pieces sorted by size. He had even spent an entire day colour-coordinating his entire bookshelf only to wake up in the middle of the night because the new order bothered him. He then spent the rest of the night putting all the books back in their former, alphabetical order. Once he was done, he had fallen asleep immediately on the couch.

Jeremy and Richard called him sometimes to see how he was doing, talk about cars or just cock about for a couple of minutes. He suspected they felt guilty that he was left all alone while they had lives to tend to. Off-set, Richard spent most of his days with Mindy. When they were recording Top Gear he was scarcely at home and he wanted to make it up to Mindy during his time off. Jeremy spent his time with Frances, but James suspected that wasn't for the same reasons as Richard. Although Jeremy indeed liked to believe he was the man of his relationship, he often found himself giving in to Frances' wishes. If James hadn't personally known Frances he never would have believed it true, because Jeremy was not a man to confess being gentle at heart.

With a tired sigh, James decided to call it a day. He neatly hung the spanners back on their respective pins on the wall and threw the dirty rag in the garbage can. The air was cool and damp as he closed the garage door behind him, and the sun was setting. It reminded him of how late it actually was. He found himself shuddering in his t-shirt, but he made no attempt to hurry into his house. He knew it would be empty anyway, with the exception of Fusker. As he walked up the gravel path and onto his porch, he felt his phone vibrate in his pocket. He sat down on the first step of the porch and reached for a pack of fags and a lighter in his other pocket. When the comfort of nicotine kicked in, he yanked his phone out and turned the screen on.

_New message._

_From: Richard_

_You in mate?_

Richard was never one to text. He normally complained that it took too long and that it was simply easier to call. Indeed, on Richard Hammond's Tech Head he appeared modern, but truthfully he was just as old-fashioned as any of them. The detail unsettled James. Either Hammond had changed his mind, which rarely happened, or something was wrong. He took a deep drag of smoke and typed his reply.

_To: Richard_

_Yes. Why, anything happened?_

James reached for a second fag. His first one was already lying on the gravel, a light trail of smoke coming from knew he should stop, but smoking was the only thing that soothed his nerves. Fusker provided company and affection, but not even his furry friend could still the nervous shake of his hands or the rapid pounding of his heart. James didn't realize he was clinging onto his phone until it vibrated again in his hand.

_New message._

_From: Richard_

_Can I come over?_

James' suspicion something was wrong was only strengthened by Hammond's obvious attempt at ignoring his question. He knew he couldn't refuse the man, but it made him shaky and insecure. He hadn't been around people for a while and it made him feel awkward, even around one of his best mates.

_To: Richard_

_Of course._

With one final drag of smoke he finished his cigarette, got up and went inside. The heat that hit him as he walked through his front door made him realize how cold it had actually been. He shivered as he took his shoes off, carefully placing them next to his other pair. Out of habit he walked into the kitchen and put the kettle on. The many sleepless nights he had suffered had significantly increased his tea-consumption. As he turned to his cupboard to fetch himself a bag, Fusker walked into the kitchen meowing loudly, demanding to be fed. James kneeled and scratched her behind her ears. She purred softly, and James sighed in defeat and fetched the tin can of cat food. He knew that when it came to his cat, he could never win.

It was with a nice cup of tea on the kitchen table beside him and Fusker on his lap that he heard the knock on the door. Disturbed by James' sudden movement, Fusker jumped off his lap, allowing him to get up. With quick steps he left the kitchen and entered his hallway. From the blurry window in the front door, he could see Hammond's hair. With a nervous breath he walked up to the door and opened it.

Without greeting James, Richard entered the hallway, kicking off his unlaced sneakers and throwing his brown leather jacket on the floor. His eyes were fixated on the ground.

"Richard? What's wrong?" James' voice was kind, concerned and a tad uncertain.

Richard looked up at James, eyes and nose red, and James understood he'd been crying.

"Jesus Hammond" James was shocked. He had rarely ever seen Richard cry, so it baffled him every time it happened, pushing him ever so slightly out of his comfort-zone. James really didn't know what to do, but luckily, Richard did. In a swift movement he went forward and hugged him tight, shaking in his arms as the sobs returned.

"Mate?" James whispered softly into his hair.

"He's gone, James" Richard snivelled with a pained voice. "Matt. He's gone."

"Oh, hell, I'm so sorry. I- I didn't know." James knew Richard had been very close with Mindy's brother. They had always spoken about all those things he and Richard never could. But now he was gone.

"C-car crash, they said. Was drunk, apparently" Richard sounded weak and it made James' heart ache.

"How's Mindy taking it?" James said, and Richard snivelled again.

"Better than I am, at least" the smile wasn't incredibly convincing, but it was something.

"If there's anything I can-"James begun.

"Isn't" Richard's reply was hard, but he softened when he noticed James' hurt look. "Look, I'm sorry. There is just nothing anybody can do."

"I understand. If you need me, you know where to find me."

When Richard left after a cup of tea, James knew he would never forget the heart-broken look on Richard's face, or how long it took for him to become himself again without risking to break apart in front of everyone.


	4. Chapter 4 part 1

**NOTES: Hey guys. I'm afraid to tell you this fanfiction is going on temporary hiatus. Due to incredible workload from school I haven't had the time to write much, but I am uploading what I have written so far. I'm planning on cancelling the hiatus around week 13 when things have calmed down. Cheers. **

The world was in black and white, the normally green details faded to tired shades of grey. The air buzzed with dark, static electricity, as if two dimensions had collided, their energies growing together and leaking out through tiny holes in the thin air. The sun shone upon the naked tree trunks, making the dark nuances no shades brighter. The leaves had since long fallen from the trees, and the air was chilly and thick.

James was running, but he didn't know why. It was a rare sight ever seeing him run, and he was running for his life. High above his head, toward the colourless sky, sat a black crow on a thin branch. _Caw, caw. _He didn't dare slowing down - he was afraid of whatever was behind him. _Caw, caw. _The crow took a leap of faith from the branch, throwing itself at James, flapping its wings above his head. With three mighty flaps it ascended into the sky. Within seconds it was but a dot in the sky. _Caw, caw. _The faster James ran, the less distance he progressed. With each breath, he seemed to be running out of air. _Caw, caw. _The trees beside him flew by as he ran, with leaves black as the night. He took a quick glance behind him, and saw what was chasing him. He understood. _Caw, caw. _James couldn't run any longer. He fell to his knees, gazing up at the dark trees with his breath in his throat. The leaves were no leaves, he realized. As he looked up, a thousand crows looked down upon him, laughing and cawing and flapping their wings. His knees were weak and would bear him no longer, and he fell forwards onto all four.

_James, James_ the crows sounded, mocking him. _James, James. _

"James"There was a man calling his name, and James immediately knew who he was. The hooded figure walked out from behind a tree, dazzling blue eyes meeting his. It was the man from the forest.

James awoke with a jolt, cold sweat trickling down his creased brow. The world outside the tent was dark still, and although it was even darker inside James could still make out the contours of Richard lying on his side.

"James?" Richard asked with a voice thick from sleep. "You alright?"

"Mmh" was all James could manage. His heart was pounding and his breath was laboured. He was shivering despite the relative heat in the tent. Richard looked anxious and leaned forward to nudge his shoulder gently. James inhaled sharply from the touch but luckily not loudly enough for Richard to notice.

"'T'was just a dream" he said, finally. "I'm fine"

Richard relaxed seemingly and rolled onto his back, stifling a yawn.

"Remember any of it?" Richard put his hands behind his head, resting the weight upon his palms and entwined fingers. The steady sound of Richard's breathing made James' uneasy feeling disperse and vanish as if it had never existed at all.

"I was being chased" he answered, now calmly with a steady voice. "It was the man I saw at the other campsite." There was a hint of uncertainty in his statement.

Richard lay quiet for a while, processing what James had just said. When James harrumphed soundly it became obvious Richard had been trying out how to word his reply in a friendly manner, as to not hurt James' feelings.

"Err, when we get back" he begun "maybe you should, you know… see someone."

"A psychiatrist you mean?"

"Well, yes. You have seemed a bit… off. Just worried is all."

"Maybe I should" James agreed, giving him a tiny smile to make sure Richard understood he wasn't hurt or offended.

James appreciated Richard's concern, he really did. In fact, the thought had occurred to him also. Neither Jeremy nor Richard had caught a glimpse of the hooded man, and despite carefully checking his surroundings when they hiked, he was nowhere to be seen. James had started believing that perhaps the man was just a figment of his imagination; a direct consequence to living alone for so long. Maybe he was going crazy, after all. It would of course mean Jeremy had been right all along, and there wouldn't be any enjoyment in him finding that out.

... To be continued.


End file.
